


Muscle and Bone (and Dead Kittens)

by Blaiser



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Forced Ejaculation, Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, Period-Typical Racism, Psychological Horror, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Fantasy, Torture, Violence, Wet Dream, mentions of animal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29129655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaiser/pseuds/Blaiser
Summary: Gaetano Fadda has been taken hostage by Loy Cannon. One of Cannon's vengeful associates pays him a late-night visit.
Relationships: Leon Bittle/Gaetano Fadda, Zelmare Roulette/Gaetano Fadda
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	Muscle and Bone (and Dead Kittens)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Basilthehamster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basilthehamster/gifts).



> This is a Fargo season 4 fic dedicated to Basilthehamster and this author's interesting idea of Gaetano being tortured by Cannon's men. 
> 
> The prompt as pitched in this link: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031547/chapters/68670924 
> 
> (along with many other great ones) has been on my mind for several weeks now, so this weekend I finally had the time and decided to do something about it.
> 
> Please forgive the typos, the grammar mistakes (especially the commas), the absurd character assassination of Leon Bittle whom I have made into a monstorus sexual predator just because I can, the awful writing clichés and last but not least: the unforgivable misuse of the beautiful Italian language. 
> 
> I borrowed a few paragraphs from Richard Wright's book "Black Boy" at the end. It is a very good book - highly recommend it.

_He finds himself standing in the middle of his family’s old orchard in Sardinia._

_It is nighttime and the moon is out, illuminating a path between rows of withered orange trees._

_The ground beneath his bare feet is cold and hard, the air filled with the smell of blood and smoke._

_A bright blaze makes him turn his attention to the side._

_There he sees the place he regarded as his home away from home after leaving America, the white stone house belonging to his aunt and uncle, engulfed in towering orange flames._

_A dozen fascists armed with torches, rifles and vicious hounds are standing around the burning building in a semicircle._

_On their knees in front of the soldiers are his aunt, uncle and young cousin, Lorenzo._

_It was not long ago he was giving Lorenzo piggyback rides around the orchard._

_“Piú veloce, Gaetano!” Lorenzo would scream joyfully, and he would pick up his pace and run faster up and down the citrus groves, the boy clinging to his back squealing with childish happiness._

_When they were both exhausted from running and laughing in the Mediterranean sun, they would lay on their backs under a tree and eat mandarins and peaches while they mused about life, love and goals._

_But now the boy once so filled with life is but an empty husk of himself._

_The war has been rough on them all but the children have suffered the most._

_Terror and starvation has snuffed out the light in his eyes, turned his rosy cheeks hollow and pale as snow._

_Lorenzo looks up at him; large wet eyes in a ghostlike face, begging his older cousin to save him._

_An officer spots him standing between the trees, orders him – il traditore - to surrender or they will shoot his family._

_A fire burns within his chest._

_He wants to go and kill all the fascist swine with his bare hands even if it means going out in a hail of bullets, but as he begins to walk towards the flaming house and the armed soldiers, his mind fixed on murder, he is halted by the sound of a soft, angelic voice calling his name:_

_“Gaetano.”_

_Turning his attention towards the sound he sees a beautiful young woman with long, wavy hair standing at the end of the path, a ray of light surrounding her figure like a halo._

_She smiles and waves at him._

_“Adelina?”_

_He whispers in disbelief and sets off, sprints past the soldiers and their dogs snapping at his heels, towards the woman he has loved and desired for what to him feels like forever._

_Three gunshots ring out followed by the dull sound of bodies hitting the ground._

_He gasps and chokes as though the bullets have pierced his own body but still he keeps on running._

_“Adelina!”_

_He calls out, his voice booming through the scourged plantation._

_“Per favore!”_

_She waits patiently, smiling her beautiful smile as he runs up to her and falls onto his knees._

_He closes his eyes, takes her hands in his and kisses them greedily._

_“Mi sei mancata cosí tanto.”_

_“I’ve missed you too, slick.” A female voice above him purrs, deeper and much rougher than Adelina’s._

_Startled, he looks up and sees that Adelina has morphed into a black woman with slicked back hair, wearing a short green silk dress, rabbit fur coat and a wide devilish smile._

_His confused expression makes the woman bursts into a maniacal laughter. She reaches down, grabs both his wrists and starts to twist them un till they are throbbing with pain._

_He groans and tries to break free from the much smaller woman, but her hold on him is superhuman, her hands like mittens of steel._

_“Not the first time that sweet pussy has gotten to you, is it?”_

_The woman leans down and laughs directly into his face, her mouth still curled in a hyena’s grin, her black eyes emitting danger, cunning and madness._

_“You want some? Cause’ I can take you for a ride you won’t ever forget. I'll make you see the fucking stars, boy!”_

_She lets go of his wrists and uses her hands to pull up her dress instead, exposing her sex inches away from his face, smooth brown flesh surrounded by dark pubic hair with an alluring pink center that glistens with moisture._

_Forgetting there ever was a love of his life named Adelina, he stares mesmerized at the strange woman’s pussy, licking his lips longing to taste her._

_“Open your mouth and close your eyes then…” she commands as her hand seizes him by the back of his neck and pulls him closer, “…lick it real good, little kitten. Put that tongue that the good Lord gave you to some use...make me cum on your fac...”_

***

The lights are turned on and Gaetano is ripped from his dream.

A hand yanks his head up by the hair while another slaps his cheek hard a couple of times.

Groggily, he shifts in the chair, wants to swat the hand away but a sleeping sensation in his shoulders and arms reminds him his hands are tied behind his back and the rattle of metal that he is secured to the wall by a ten-foot chain wrapped around his neck.

“Hey _greaseball_ …you awake?”

Through his good eye - the one that hasn’t yet swollen shut - he recognizes the negro youth doing the slapping as the one the other _mulignani_ call “Happy’s cousin”.

Happy’s cousin wearing a green and white shirt and black slacks is around Gaetano’s height only forty or fifty pounds lighter. His face is handsome, scar-less and smooth except for the big dent in his lip caused by Gaetano’s elbow hitting him a week or so before.

Behind him stands two other negro men that Gaetano faintly remembers having seen before, perhaps at the same slaughterhouse scuffle where Happy’s cousin got his lip busted open.

One of the men is wearing a black fedora, the other an ill-fitting pin-striped suit. They are both tall and sturdy, wearing the same dry stone like expression on their faces, void of any emotion whatsoever.

Gaetano’s eye sweep the gym expecting Cannon to appear at any minute.

When he does not, Gaetano is slightly puzzled. His captors usually do not wake him up unless their boss is there wanting a word or they are trying to get some water in him. 

“What do you want?” he rasps as he looks back up at Happy’s cousin.

Happy’s cousin smirks then curls his lips in a wide smile showing his teeth, all bright and perfect except for the left canine that seems to be cut in half. 

“You fucked up my teeth, remember? At the slaughterhouse?” He tabs a finger against the broken tooth. “I want an apology.”

For a second Gaetano stares dumbfounded at him then lets out a wheezing laugh that echoes through the gym.

Although his ribs are sore from the beatings Cannon’s man has put on him and it hurts like hell he just can’t help himself.

_Fottuti americani._

Happy’s cousin lets go of Gaetano’s hair and emits a low, disingenuous chuckle.

“Non preoccuparti. Sarai ancora in grado di prendere un po 'di cazzo, ne sono sicuro…”

The blow to his abdomen comes fast and with such force Gaetano looses all air in his lungs and he lets out a dry wheezing sound. Instinctively, he tries to bend forward to protect his gut but the taut chain prevents him from doing anything except bowing his head a little.

”You in America now, _boy_ …speak American!”

Happy’s cousin, still smiling, drums the nightstick against the palm of his hand testing its weight and impact.

“You American men and your feelings…” Gaetano rasps out a chuckle “…like little girls, _no_? how do you say? _Delicate…_ ”

He watches as Happy’s cousin dives into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one up, blows smoke through his nostrils and stares at Gaetano - awaiting what exactly Gaetano does not know so he eyes the chance to continue.

“My sister has a lipstick that would look good on you…very red like a baboon’s ass.” Not his best but the joke still makes him laugh out loud until the nightstick crashes into his gut again and his laughter turns into a hiss of pain instead.

The man called Happy’s cousin steps closer and takes a final drag of the cigarette before putting it out on Gaetano’s shoulder.

Gaetano lets out a low grunt as a short, soft sizzle of flesh fills the air between the two men.

“What was that?” Happy’s cousin asks with mock ignorance then moves another step closer, bringing him directly in front of Gaetano and within kicking range.

“I didn’t quite catch that…”

Gaetano, eyeing the irresistible opportunity, pulls his right leg up and aims to drive his boot into his abductor’s groin but due to his inadequate mobility, he misses and hits the younger man’s shin instead.

“SHIT! Motherfucker!” Happy’s cousin lets out a growl, jumps back and massages his sore shin.

In a flash the man in the striped suit is behind Gaetano, snaking a hand in his hair and pulling his head backwards, exposing his throat.

Happy’s cousin looks up, disbelief coating his features at first then his face turns grim as Gaetano lets out a bellowing laugh.

He approaches Gaetano again only this time arranging himself at his prisoner’s right side, safe from kicking feet and places the end of the nightstick under Gaetano’s jaw.

“You shouldn’t have done that, you fat fuckin’ wop!” Happy’s cousin bites his lip, his eyes are dark and hard as he presses the stick harder up against the soft underside of Gaetano’s jaw.

He leans down, putting his mouth close – too close to Gaetano’s ear.

“All that muscle, all that power and privilege…it don’t mean nothing here…you _do_ realize that, don’t you?”

Gaetano turns his gaze towards him, his one brown eye wide with angry impatience. “Get it over with! Beat me or kill me! I’m sick of all your talking!”

Happy’s cousin lets out a low chuckle and removes the stick from under Gaetano’s jaw then motions for the man in the striped suit to take a step back and situates himself behind Gaetano instead.

“I’ve thought about it but then what? Broken bones heal and bruises fade…and if I kill you, Cannon looses a nice, fat bargaining chip and that is bad for everyone’s business right now…”

He places two fingertips at Gaetano’s ear, savoring the slight flinch it produces then lets them trail gently down the arch, the back of the neck and down the shoulder where they come to rest against the skin there.

“…so I thought: what is the worst thing you can do to a man when taking his life is off the table?”

He lets the question linger as he snatches a handful of Gaetano’s hair, holding him steady then bends down and licks the side of his neck with one long stroke of his tongue; taking great pleasure in the quickened pace of Gaetano’s heavy nose breathing, the muscles in his jaw clenching and the one eye darting wildly between him and thin air as he ends the assault by parting his teeth and biting down softly on the skin there. 

“This is war!!!” Gaetano whips his head around as far as the firm grip in his hair allows him to, his voice hoarse and agitated.

“ _Business_!!! This is _our_ way! We are men! If you are too soft for it run back to mama! Hide behind her skirt!”

“Do you think I am soft, _guido_?” Happy’s cousin leans up against Gaetano’s shoulder revealing that his cock has gone hard.

“Can you feel it? Does that feel _soft_ to you?”

Gaetano snorts with angry disgust, “and what will the boss say!? Huh? Is he fine with his man be a dirty faggot!?! In my country we shot people like you.”

“He won’t mind as long as you keep on breathing. Cannon needs me and my kin’s muscle if he’s going to win this war – a war that you started by the way - so other than _that_ I can do pretty much whatever the fuck I want.”

Happy’s cousin runs his fingers down Gaetano’s neck, back and arms again, feeling the smooth skin, groping the fat covered muscles.

Once again Gaetano flinches slightly which brings the confident smirk back onto Happy’s cousin’s face. 

“You never felt helpless like this before, have you? Better get used to it cause’ we're taking over. This town and everything and everyone in it. Now _we’re_ the ones on top.”

Gaetano has fallen silent, breathing rapidly through his nose.

Lips brush against his ear again, hot breath against his skin makes him shudder inwardly.

“I’m gonna fuck you in the ass now.”

Happy’s cousin comes sauntering around the chair.

“…but I’m a nice guy so I’m gonna offer you a choice…”

He waves the nightstick in front of Gaetano’s face then grabs his crotch with his other hand, making a lewd gesture.

“the stick _or_ …”

Gaetano turns his head in disgust and spits out a globule of bloody saliva.

“You will regret this.”

“Chose.” Happy’s cousin smiles, seemingly unaffected by the threat. “Or I’m gonna do it for you and it might just end up being both.”

Gaetano shuts his eye and swallows.

Having been taken hostage by Loy Cannon he had expected torture and the very likely possibility of a bullet to the brain but not this – never _this_.

It is all wrong, a sin, an atrocity he cannot accept.

But Gaetano knows a monster when he sees one, having dealt with plenty in his line of work and especially during the war and if there is one thing he knows for certain about them is that they like to play games with their prey.

Rigged games that the prey will never have a real shot at winning.

There is no way out of this, he realizes.

All that is left is damage control.

He looks up and does a slight, defeated nod towards the nightstick.

Happy’s cousin taps the heavy weapon against Gaetano’s shoulder a few times.

“Really? You don’t want something a little… _warmer_?”

Gaetano’s mouth fills with warm spittle and he feels like throwing up. His gaze finds the ground, affirming his choice.

“Non sono un fottuto frocio.”

Happy’s cousin grins wide and withdraws the stick, resting it against his own shoulder like a softball player with a baseball bat.

He looks around the gym and spots an old wooden table standing in one of its corners.

“Emmett, fetch that would ya?”

Gaetano watches as the man with the fedora walks over to table, picks it up and brings it back over to where he is sitting, placing it somewhere behind him.

Gaetano looks up meeting his captor’s gaze, a dark pair of eyes filled with sadistic delight.

“I’m still waiting on that apology. Start begging and I might just change my…”

“Fuck you and your games!” Gaetano spits out the words in contempt, “you already made up your mind. Nothing I say will change that!”

“Hmmm, maybe you’re only half as simple as I thought you were.”

Happy’s cousin sucks his teeth then turns to his two cohorts.

“Well, get him up.”

While one of the men grab Gaetano by the chain, another pair of hands coils around his upper arms, forcing him to his feet.

Immediately, Gaetano tries to head butt the man holding him by the chain but the man recognizes his intent and grabs him by the hair also, holding him firmly in place.

Gaetano struggles like a wild animal, spitting, bared teeth snapping wildly searching for someone to bite.

“Bastardi! Vi ammazzo tutti!!!”

“On the table, face down. Hold him still.” Happy’s cousin commands.

The two men spins Gaetano around and forces his upper body down on the table, pinning him to it with both their massive weights pressed down on his shoulders and a hand on the back of his neck.

Happy’s cousin taking his sweet time comes strolling around the table, dragging the nightstick across its edge and stops in front of Gaetano.

“You wanna make it easier on yourself, _huh boy_?” He places the tip of the nightstick against Gaetano’s lips, making small circles around his mouth with it.

“Don’t be proud. Suck on it a little. It’ll hurt a helluva lot less.”

Gaetano’s eye is wild and fiery.

“Fuck you!!!” he splutters and makes an attempt of lunging forward which earns him a violent punch to the kidney from the man in the striped suit.

Gaetano lets out a grunt of pain and goes limp, trying to catch his breath.

“ _Tsk, tsk_ …proud _and_ so tragically stupid.” Happy’s cousin positions himself behind his pacified prisoner.

Gaetano feels a hand slip under his stomach which quickly unbuttons his trouser and pulls them down over his ass. Happy’s cousin leans over him, his breath uneven against Gaetano’s cheek.

The younger man is evidently excited, high on the power he holds over his defenseless captive.

“You sure are a nicely fed buck, aren’t you? I like that! More to hold onto.” He grabs Gaetano’s backside possessively. “I’m gonna show you what happens to wops who fuck with me!”

He sneers then smacks Gaetano on the ass before lifting his weight off of his back and kicking his legs apart with one clean sweep.

Gaetano feels something hard against his asshole then flaming pain as Happy’s cousin forces the first four inches of the stick into his colon with one violent shove.

He lets out a breathless gasp and bucks wildly trying to throw the men pinning him down off of him.

“Keep him fucking still!” Happy’s cousin sneers and proceeds to force a few more inches of stick into Gaetano.

One of the men is now half laying across Gaetano’s back, pinning him with his weight, the other is pushing him down by the shoulder.

Gaetano is gasping like a fish out of water, his eye wide with shock and pain.

For a moment Happy’s cousin doesn’t push into him any further just lets Gaetano squirm and writhe in agony; he even pulls the stick back a little giving the impression that he’s about to call his foul mission quits.

But no. Of course not.

With another violent shove, Happy’s cousin proceeds to slam four more inches into his captive’s bowels.

Gaetano lets out a sharp squeal, bucks once and collapses flat onto the table, wheezing for air.

Blood is running down the nightstick, staining Happy’s cousin’s hand.

“Like skewering a fat, little hog!” Happy’s cousin grins sadistically as he sees the red streaks covering his skin then grabs ahold of Gaetano’s hip and gets ready to shove his weapon further into him.

“Shit, Leon…you’re gonna drain him dry if you keep it up. The boss is not gonna be too happy about that.”

Omie Sparkman is standing near the gym’s swing doors, holding a metal mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He puts the mug down near the doors before approaching his associates.

If Happy’s cousin is in any way startled by the other man’s sudden appearance, he doesn’t show it.

“I’m not. I know just when to stop. And this one can take a whole lot more, can’t you, bitch?” He pulls Gaetano’s head up by the hair and waits for a reply but gets only a choked, wheezing sound in return.

Blood mixed with saliva is running from Gaetano’s mouth down his chin and neck, ending up as small pools of crimson on the table and floor.

“Uh, I dunno man. Maybe he’s had enough. I don’t wanna be on Loy’s bad side…”, the man in the striped suit objects trying to hide the concern in his voice, his eyes darting from Omie back to Happy’s cousin.

“I didn’t sign up for this shi…”

The man falls silent when Happy’s cousin whips his head around and sends him a deadly stare.

Omie walks up to Gaetano, cups his chin and tilts his bruised face up towards him.

As Omie inspects him closely, Gaetano suddenly hawks up a large glop of bloody phlegm and spits it at Omie, hitting him right in the face.

“Fuck you… _cowards._ ” Gaetano mutters weakly.

For a second the man with the cloudy eye just stands there dumbstruck then wipes off the spittle running down his face and backhands Gaetano hard.

Happy’s cousin is looking on amused. “Do you want to trade places, Omie? Take some of that rage out on this?”

He smacks Gaetano on the ass again, extracting a barely audible growl.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Nah, man, that shit ain’t for me. I would rather we just shot this motherfucker but as it is we can’t. Despite everything he might still be of some use.”

Omie looks from Gaetano to Happy’s cousin to the half a nightstick poking out of Gaetano’s behind.

“I can’t let you waste him especially not like _this_. It’s not the way Loy wants shit done.”

Happy’s cousin’s expression changes from amused to dangerously grim.

“Man, who gives a shit about _the hows_!? This wop is dead meat anyway. Loy ain’t never gonna let him go after what happened to Satchel and Doctor Senator, everyone knows that! Might as well have some fun with him while he’s still breathing.”

He forces another two inches into Gaetano withdrawing an otherworldly shriek from his victim.

“I said: _enough_.” Omie’s voice is calm and firm and it halts Happy’s cousin if only for a second.

“ _Enough_ , huh?” Happy’s cousin looks up at his associate, grinning.

“These wops have been killing us for decades, treating us worse than dog shit and now when we’re finally about to get our due you wanna play it soft? Do you think _they_ would be all forgiving n’ shit if it was the other way around?”

Omie sucks his teeth and looks away, knowing full well the answer to that question is a big fucking _hell no_.

“Tell you what, Omie…” Happy’s cousin’s voice is filled with arrogant confidence, “Loy is going to need Happy’s help if he’s going to win this war, that is just a fact. Now, I’m sure that Loy wouldn’t mind me entertaining his guest a little if that means I put in a good word for y’all when the time comes. I’m not gonna kill him…just gonna show him his place that’s all and in a few days - if Loy decides he should live that long - he might even be able to walk again.”

Omie’s gaze wanders from Happy’s cousin down to Gaetano who is coughing feebly, the side of his face mushed against the table, his eye now shut.

He is listening to their conversation, Omie can tell, passively awaiting his fate like a lamb at a butcher's shop while the butcher is on a smoke break. 

_Perhaps a clean death was too good for him. Not because of the Doctor - the old man was a willing participant in the game after all and he accepted the risk as did everyone on Loy’s payroll - but because of Satchel; a ten-year old boy murdered because Gaetano and Josto Fadda and swine like them didn’t even view him as human but as mere collateral._

_Just another cold black body laying face-down in a filthy ravine somewhere, used, abused, discarded - all because of money and turf of which they already had plenty._

_So who should give two shits about what happens to greedy, truce-breaking motherfuckers who orders hits on children?_

“So you’re not going to kill him?” Omie finally asks as he looks back up meeting Happy’s cousin’s gaze.

“I just said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

Omie takes a step backwards. “As long as he don’t end up dead, I don’t really care what you do.”

Happy’s cousin chuckles and runs his hand from Gaetano’s neck, down his flank and hip, under his belly and cups his balls, feeling their weight and softness then grabs a hold of his cock.

He pulls the nightstick a few inches out of Gaetano then proceeds to stroke his length while he slowly fucks him with the weapon.

It takes Gaetano a second to contemplate what is happening but when the Italian realizes what his captor is doing, he begins struggling, squirming, bucking against the men holding him down.

But his strength is spent within a few minutes and soon he lays flat against the table again, his cock growing increasingly harder in Happy’s cousin’s hand.

“Oh, you like that, don’t cha? I can feel how hard you are, bitch…”

Gaetano shuts his eye and tries to block out the sound of his rapist’s voice, his face a luscious pink color.

He moans in strained gasps as Happy’s cousin increases the rhythm of his strokes.

“Too bad your brother’s midget ass isn’t here…I would have loved to see his face! Bend him over this table next to you and split you both open.”

Omie has turned against the wall, picked out a bullet hole to focus on and lit another cigarette waiting for his colleague to finish.

After a few minutes of masturbating him furiously and noticing the rapid change in his victim's breathing, Happy’s cousin can tell Gaetano is about to cum.

He leans over the Italian’s body and bites his earlobe hard enough to draw blood.

Gaetano cums with a strained grunt, spilling his seed into the palm of his hand.

Happy’s cousin stands up straight and pulls the bloodied nightstick slowly from Gaetano’s ass then lets it fall onto the cement floor with a heavy _clonk_!

He wipes the spunk on his hand off on the small of Gaetano’s back and stands back, taking in the sight of his prisoner’s ravaged behind with a smirk.

“Who is the faggot now?” he asks cruelly.

“Are you done?” Omie turns from the wall and walks up to Happy’s cousin, staring him down with his usual indifferent mien.

Meanwhile the man in the striped suit and the man wearing the fedora have loosened their hold on Gaetano’s shoulders and neck. Now they are simply holding him down using minimal effort, a hand on each shoulder blade.

“I didn’t finish but don’t worry it shouldn’t take long…” Happy’s cousin licks his lips and starts moving towards Gaetano’s limp body but Omie stops the younger man with a hand on his chest.

“I can’t let you do that. I don’t care what he did to you or the Doctor or even the kid…you’ve done enough just leave him be.”

“Thought you didn’t care.” Happy’s cousin curls his lips in a sneer.

“Well, I changed my mind. Take it up with Loy if you have a problem with that.”

Omie ignores the now furious look on Happy’s cousin’s face as he turns around and seizes Gaetano’s trousers from down around his ankles, pulls them back over his hips and buttons them back up.

“Emmett! Paul! Put him on the floor then I suggest y’all get the fuck on outta here!” Omie orders the two men holding Gaetano down.

For a fleeting second Emmett and Paul’s eyes meet in mutual agreement then they grab the captive under his armpits and lifts him off the table.

As soon as his feet are on the ground and the two men have let him go, Gaetano’s knees give in and he falls to the floor onto his knees.

Slowly he turns his face towards Happy’s cousin, one dark brown eye staring out from a swollen, bloodied face. 

“Ho intenzione di uccidere tutti, ma io ti ucciderò lentamente,” Gaetano croaks and spits.

”Was that _a fuckin' threat_? That sure as shit sounded like a threat to me!” Happy’s cousin starts laughing, looking around wide eyed as though he cannot believe what he just heard, ”you got some balls on you, _guido..._ I’ll give you that…”

He runs up behind Gaetano and grabs the chain around his neck, pulling his head back with a violent yank.

”Say it again…come on…”

Gaetano opens his mouth to speak but Happy’s cousin seizes him around the jaw, mushing his face, preventing him from emitting anything except a muffled, chocked sound.

”I’m gonna knock out all your teeth and when I’m done I’m gonna fuck your face, piggy...” Happy’s cousin sneers into Gaetano’s ear, his angry spittle spraying the side of his face.

The sound of a gun hammer being pulled back makes Happy's cousin look up.

Omie is pointing his revolver at him.

”…like I said: y’all get the fuck on out of here!”

Emmett and Paul hurries towards the doors, casting nervous glances over their shoulders as they exit the gym.

”You sure you wanna do this, Omie?” Happy’s cousin grins as he releases Gaetano’s face and lets his hand run slowly down the Italian’s neck and chest instead where it settles on a nipple, squeezing it hard.

”There is no way he’s gonna leave here alive...we both know it. Shit! Even _he_ knows it! Where’s the harm in blowing off a little steam? No one is ever going to know.”

Resolutely, Omie points his weapon slightly past his associate’s head and fires. The bullet misses Happy’s cousin by a foot or so, hitting the wall behind him.

Startled, Happy’s cousin takes a step back from his prisoner, his hands raised slightly in the air.

”The next one goes riiight between your eyes.” Omie cocks the hammer once again as to underline his threat.

Happy’s cousin stands still for a few seconds looking from Gaetano to the gun, considering his next play and weighing the consequences thereof, then sucks his teeth and walks out the gym without a word, staring vindictively at Omie and punching one of the punching bags hanging from the ceiling on his way out.

Gaetano watches him leave and lets out a small exhalation as he hears the doors swing shut.

His whole body trembling he looks up at Omie then turns his head to the side.

”Don’t think he’ll be back but I’m gonna stay here till sun up just to make sure.”

Omie puts his firearm back in the shoulder holster then walks on over to the mug he placed on the floor when he first entered the gym, picks it up and brings it over to Gaetano, stopping in front of the kneeling man.

”You want some of this, man? It’s water.” He motions towards his prisoner with the mug but Gaetano ignores the gesture, keeping his head turned to the side, staring at nothing.

”Suit yourself.” Omie goes down in a squat and leaves the mug less than a foot from Gaetano, making sure that the Italian can reach it on his own.

”Let me know if you change your mind.”

He stands back up, goes to one of the corners of the gym where a chair is stationed and sits down in it.

From his inner pocket he pulls out a paperback he bought recently at a thrift store downtown, “ _Black boy”_ by the author Richard Wright.

_My brother ran away in fright. I found a piece of rope, made a noose, slipped it around the kitten’s neck, pulled it over a nail, then jerked the animal clear of the ground. It gasped, slobbered, spun, doubled, clawed the air frantically; finally, its mouth gaped and its pink-white tongue shot out stiffly. I tied the rope to the nail and went to find my brother. He was crouching behind a corner of the building._

_”I killed ’im,” I whispered._

_”You did bad,” my brother said._

Every so often Omie looks up at the captive now laying on his side facing the brick wall, shaking from either cold or pain or both.

The mug stands near him untouched.

He knows for a fact that Gaetano hasn’t eaten for several days and that he’s hardly had any water to drink either.

For a fleeting moment Omie considers getting a blanket from his car and covering the trembling man but then decides against it.

He’s pretty sure Gaetano would not accept it – Loy certainly wouldn’t if he found out - and besides there is no need in risking your own health and standing for a man who is already dead and practically buried.

Omie scratches his brow and turns his attention back to the paperback. 

_“Now Papa can sleep.” I said, deeply satisfied._

_“He didn’t mean for you to kill ‘im,” my brother said._

_“Then why did he tell me to do it?” I demanded._

_My brother could not answer; he stared fearfully at the dangling kitten._

_“That kitten’s going to get you,” he warned me._

_“That kitten can’t even breathe now,” I said._

Sartre was right. Hell is indeed _other people_.


End file.
